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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769414">Trees of Green</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ew_socialinteractions/pseuds/ew_socialinteractions'>ew_socialinteractions</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Green Creek Series - T.J. Klune</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:07:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ew_socialinteractions/pseuds/ew_socialinteractions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ready for this?” He asked, and it came out muffled. Kelly hummed and ran his hands through Robbie’s hair, pressed the pads of his fingers into his scalp and let them rest there.</p><p>The Batfamily pulls the Bennett Pack back into things.</p><p>They are undeniably thrilled.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carter Bennett/Gavin Livingstone, Kelly Bennett/Robbie Fontaine, Mark Bennett/Gordo Livingstone, Tim Drake &amp; Dick Grayson &amp; Jason Todd &amp; Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>Robbie Fontaine thought that it was a beautiful fucking day. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Green Creek was just past the turning point into winter. The coat rack next to the Keurig was overflowing, and if you bumped it, jackets started to fall off like pines from a dying tree. Christmas lights glinted against windows, little multicolored halos. The glass was fogged so heavily that they closed those within off from what lay beyond. He was wrapped in the scent of coffee and oil and cold french fries. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Mariah Carey echoed through the cluttered space. Robbie crooned along quietly, tapping his pen on his chin. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A thick hat lay crumpled next to his shitty computer, and it smells like Carter. A little glass of flowers sat next to it, just starting to lilt. They were dyed a bright purple. Kelly called them Barney Flowers. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He pushed his glasses up and looked down at his log book. His tight handwriting lay crammed into the pages, bright blue and navy and red littering the paper. A little smiley face was sprawled in the corner, and he thinks of Tanner leaning over his shoulder, reaching blindly for a sharpie. His palm falls heavy-handed onto Robbie’s keyboard, and Robbie’s teeth snap at the man above him. The chest shakes against his shoulder. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A laugh rolls out from behind him, and he hears a clang. His attention does not stray from the numbers in front of him, and he sings that all I want for Christmas, is you. Someone honks down the street, and he hears a car door slam. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There was no door between the lobby and the shop, just sheets of black rubber that hang from the doorway. It shifts, and he’s scribbling out a number as he listens to approaching clunky footsteps and scratchy humming. A knuckle knocks his temple, and it was a Gordo mannerism. He looks up and smiles, sees Gavin staring at him openly. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Coffee?” He asks, and Robbie shakes his head, knows that he had a cup earlier with Kelly on the deck of their blue house, before the sky turned blue and when he could barely see the steam curl out of the cup in the biting air. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>That one mug was enough to make his fingers shake against his keyboard. Yes, he was a caffeine lightweight. Yes, he resents that. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gavin gives him a knowing smirk, and again, Robbie sees his brother in him as he wonders why that man bothered asking. They know. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He turns towards the Keurig, and the six months that he’s been back has begun to fill out his work shirt. A piece of hair was hanging out of his bun.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’s humming again as the coffee machine whirs, and he balances three cups of chipped ceramic and sloshing liquid, as he shuffles towards the back and garners a thrown holler from someone (Chris) as he pushes through the rubber. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His attention rests lightly back onto the numbers, onto the tapping of his shitty pen, onto He’s making a list, He's checking it twice, onto the soft hissing of the Keurig cooling down and laughter in the other room.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It remains that way, broken once by the clanging of their little bell and another by his spiny chair being dragged out of the room by <em>heathens.</em> Lovely, kind-hearted heathens. The third, and notably final, break in his lull was when Gordo dropped a wrench into a hood.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He heard an inhale that cut through the rest of the noise like a marble through water, knew it was Gordo, and his pen had paused on his paper even before there was the very ugly sound of a piece of metal bouncing around the inside of a car.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Robbie was up and in the other room, leaving behind a slowly spinning chair, an abnormally large blot of ink at the top of a half drawn four, and Mariah Carey. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’s met with white walls, bright lights, and Ox leaning over a bewildered Gordo Livingstone. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He...doesn’t look like he’s in pain? Robbie bumps his shoulder against Chris’s (well, Chris’s forearm, but he chooses to ignore that). His stride falters, but he continues towards the man crouched on concrete. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He drops down next to him, plopping onto the floor and crossing his legs. He feels his eyebrows furrow. “Gordo?” He looks towards him, opens his mouth, and then closes it again. Robbie feels an eyebrow raise. He squints, and just smells...confusion? “Gordo?” He says again, and even though the man’s not hurt, didn’t burn himself or smash a foot or trip and fall on his face, Robbie’s jaw is still tightened, his heart is still jackrabbiting. It’s happening again. Something is happening <em>again</em>. It’s been six months of silence, and they were hoping - he was hoping, but - </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Robbie Fontaine wraps his hand lightly around Gordo Livingstone’s wrist. He presses the pads of his fingers against rough skin. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He can feel the ghost of a touch against his shoulder, looks up to see Ox pulling a hand away. A small-but-not-small-at-all smile from his alpha, a skull full of <em>packpackpackpack</em>, and he looks back at Gordo. He finds the man’s eyes on him, hears a “What’s going on?” from behind him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordo raises both eyebrows, and Robbie watches his expression slide from bewilderment towards resigned. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Someone <em>knocked on the wards</em>.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>-</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Robbie lagged behind the rest when Gordo catches his wrist, holding it lightly. “You know,” he said lowly, standing squarely between Robbie and the door, as if that in itself could block the others from hearing. “I don’t have to be able to hear your heartbeat to know when you’re freaking out.” He rubs a thumb against Robbie’s wrist, and the younger thinks of smudges on the glass above his face. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordo leans down and knocks his forehead against Robbie’s. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’s pulled back through the front room, and he stumbles a little bit when he reaches to grab his shitty phone from the aux cord. Christmas music cuts to a stop, and he frowns as he’s jostled forward. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ox and Tanner are both on the phone when they step into the cold, Tanner holding Gavin’s clothes in a hand. Robby has his coat hanging behind him, puff falling off his shoulders and fake fur scratching at his forehead. He slides into the passenger seat of Gordo’s truck, the man in question entering behind the wheel. He turns the key to start the engine, and pulls out while Ox, Tanner, and Chris climb into his SUV. They kick across gravel and pavement, and Robbie shifts through radio channels like he’s shuffling through a pile of paper (he would know - he’s done lot’s of shuffling, <em>and</em> has experience dealing with paper).</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A muffled trumpet spills out of speakers, and Debbie Reynolds sings that <em>All I do is dream of you</em>. Robbie turns to Gordo with a growing grin; he can feel it pull at his cheeks. Gordo scowls at him, and he knows that he’s one of the few people that the witch would let keep on whatever he liked. Laughter tumbled out of his chest, and his crooning of <em>You’re every thought, you’re every thing, You’re every song I ever sing</em> fills the little space before he switches the channel. Gordo’s eyes are crinkling from where he’s turned towards the road. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They pull up to the houses with Ox and Co trailing behind them. Gavin loped in from the trees as car doors click open and slam closed, brushing against legs on his way to Carter. Robbie watches as hands absentmindedly reach down and ran through his fur as he passed. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Bennett pack stands in a mass on the gravel and grass. Robbie reaches down and feels it’s chill. He feels a hand in his hair, and then Gordo bypasses him to make his way to the matriarch.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Elizabeth Bennett stood tall, her shoulders rolled back and her chin lifted up. She smiled at Gordo, and Mark shifted towards him from where he was stationed next to the queen. He sees a tilt to the head, a concerned closeness, and he knew that if he listened, Robbie would here <em>I’m fine, you big mutt</em>. <em>Stop worrying</em>. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rico is standing with his hands on his hips, Jessie sitting at his feet with the baby. Him and Bambi had been switching days on and off work to be with Joshua, and right now Bambi was headed over from the bar. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He watches as Ox walks towards the man, Joe meeting him at the father’s side. Their arms brush, and Rico is looking peeved even though they haven’t said anything. <em>He knows</em>. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Robbie hears a, “You’re both staying here,” and Robbie sees him eye the crowbar by Jessie’s thigh before Rico grabs both of their biceps and drags them to the side. A, “We’re not having it out in front of the baby,” is pushed towards them. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tanner ran inside and grabbed baseball bats for him and Chris, and they bump em when he gets back out. Tanner’s also carrying a pile of blankets, and Robbie see’s Elizabeth’s eyes on him, her nod in his direction. <em>Just in case. </em></p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He sees Dominique in the seat of an open car, one of her legs hanging out. She’s on the phone, and he guesses she’s calling the motel, letting them know there might be some wolves coming in. With both houses at max capacity with their permanent residents, they know the drill by know. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A cruiser rolls in. Bambi steps out of the passenger seat before it stopped moving, heading over to where Rico is pouting at the Alphas. She puts a hand on his shoulder, another sitting on her hip. He has a vivid image of her boyfriend doing the same thing, and feels his lip pull up.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Between the four of them, he hears a “Just because we’re parents does <em>not</em> make us incompetent.” and a “There’s a duty to be there for the baby, and putting youself in harms way when you don’t have to defeats that.” Bambi did not immediately take Rico’s side.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gravel crunches, and someone crouches behind him. A head bumps against his, and blond hair brushes against his eye. Fingers twine between his from where they’re resting on scratchy stone, and Robbie turns his head towards a bright smile and crinkling eyes. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hi,” Robbie said, and pushed against Kelly with his forehead from where it was resting against the blonde’s.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hi,” and wow, was Kelly fucking radiant. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He rubbed his nose against they boy’s and then shoved his face into the curve of his neck.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ready for this?” He asked, and it came out muffled. Kelly hummed and ran his hands through Robbie’s hair, pressed the pads of his fingers into his scalp and let them rest there.  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A bird chirped, and he listened to branches shift, cobblestone scrape. Voices buoyed across the shifting sounds.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The hand in his hair tightened, and he was pulled out of the shallows and into the air. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He looked up and saw that they were moving. Rico was settled crosslegged on the porch, leaning against the doorframe. Joshua batted at his face from where he resided in the wolf’s arms. Bambi was exiting the main house, her rifle swung behind her back and a pistol in each grip. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He boosts himself up, offers a hand to Kelly. He plants his feet and leans back as the boy hulls himself to his feet. Robbie imagined it looks rather comical. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Carter and Mark were shifted, Tanner and Chris stripping Barbie of her artillery. He guessed she wasn’t coming then. Elizabeth stayed free-handed and barefooted, the Alphas standing tall beside her. Their fingers were laced lightly together. They were surveying the pack. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A shirt was thrown at him, a belt drops to the ground, and blond turns to brown beside him. A wet nose nuzzles his palm, and a rib cage of skin and fur presses against his hip. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordo is the first one to move. He steps into the woods, a hand resting behind one of Mark’s ears. Ox trots to his side, and Robbie sees him nudge Gordo’s spine. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Chris and Tanner bumped shoulders as they followed, and Robbie heard Chris snort. Carter brushed against his mother, and she looked towards Robbie and his mate. They moved, and she fell into step beside them, giving Robbie a small-but-not-so-small-at-all smile as she ran her hand through her son’s fur. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Carter chuffed, circling them before doing the wolf equivalent of body checking the young Fontaine. Robbie was knocked clear off his feet and resented that fact. He was midway through rolling across Kelly when he wrapped himself around the wolf and held on. He looked towards the offending party and squinted. “Asshole,” he grumbled, and Carter gave off <em>packpackpackpackpack</em> before trotting away, Gavin in tow. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Elizabeth huffed and nudges his arm, and he slid down off an amused Kelly with a grudging “yeah, yeah.” She was green, and Robbie thought it was fucking beautiful. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jessie followed behind them, and Robbie heard the swish off grass as she swung her crowbar back and forth. Joe walked beside her, and Robbie felt his pull, his <em>wewillbeokayiwillprotectiwillguardnoonewilltouchyou</em>. Robbie felt warm. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>-</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There were four of them.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ox, Gordo, and Mark stood just inside the wards, the Alpha’s hand raised slightly in a signal for the rest to stop. The pack winged out behind them, deftly aware of the bonds that were strung between them and watching the newcomers closely. He could feel the tension from Joe, at odds with where his mother stood loose and empty handed. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There were two shifted wolves among them, all knotted tightly together. They were still, the only movement in the flicker of eyes. Their breath clouded out around them.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A boy stood a step away from the wards, eyes sharp. He was small, and though he looked like he was drowning in a beat-up sweatshirt, Robbie thinks that he’s ready to move. He also guessed that he was the one that knocked, so presumably the witch.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A wolf wrapped himself tighter around the boy. They were large, among the higher end of those in the Bennet pack, and watched those within the wards with narrowed eyes. Robbie fought the urge to snuff at him, and Kelly knocked against him lightly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A hand rest on the wolf’s head. A man’s expression was smoothed underneath black hair ridged in waves. Lean muscles pulled and loosened from where he shifted his stance. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A dark wolf sat to the other side, posture tall. It reminded Robbie of the Alphas. Bright eyes, an almost acidic green, watched them all. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordo broke the silence. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You knocked.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The witch answered without blinking. “You answered.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A beat of silence. Joe spoke from where he stood. “Where did you come from?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The other human spoke, and Robbie saw a pointed canine. “Gotham.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Joe started to nod - Robbie guessed he knew it was in New Jersey, though they don’t have any packs there. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Joe paused, and Robbie knew that although he wasn’t looking at him, he had the Alpha’s attention. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Robbie found that he also held the attention of every single person outside the wards. Great. Kelly shifted closer to him, and Jessie’s arm brushed against his. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The wolf loosened his muscles, unclenches his jaw. It didn’t work. He could feel his teeth press against each other. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“That is not a safe place.” It wasn’t a question. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He didn’t know specifics. He just remembered his mother’s eyes blown wide, pupils pinpricks in the dark as he points to the city on their crinkled map in the back of their shitty car. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The big one chuffs, a roiling mass of whites and grays and rusty browns. The witch huffs, and his eyes flash to orange - Robbie jolted - before he got a puffy bat to the face. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Confusion spread along the bonds around him. Ox had his head cocked. The second wolf did not seem to take well to the growing curiosity. A growl rolled out of their chest, and they started to stand.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A voice snapped across the space. “Damian.” The lithe one had not looked away from Robbie’s pack, but the wolf backed down, his chest still rumbling. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gordo spoke again. “Who touched the wards?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The now-known-as-wolf <em>raised his hand</em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>That earned him another bat of a tail, and a snorting sound from the wolf that almost tried to mull them.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He asks, “How?” And those in question are silent, are hesitant, but Gordo is stubborn, and they must see it in his face because the Bennetts get an answer.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“My father is a wolf. My mother is a witch. I’m both.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Someone of his pack makes a confused sound, is about to raise a question, and he thinks it’s Tanner, but the lithe wolf speaks again, says “Tell us you haven’t seen anything else that breaks from what you think is or was normal,” and Robbie has to say he has a point. He can’t even pinpoint the exact instance he’s talking about.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ox shrugs, takes it in stride, and wow does Robbie love this man, this wonderful wonderful man. Robbie thinks he’s eyeing them, doing some ‘voodoo alfa magic’, and there’s a beat of silence, and then a, “What can we do for you?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The witch-wolf blinks. He looks...taken aback, and something in Robbie aches. Kelly nudges his hand, and he loves this wolf so badly. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The lithe wolf speaks. Robbie meets eyes with him. “You know of Gotham?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He hesitates, sees his mother, hears her quaking voice pulled smooth into a, “No. We don’t go there.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He blinks when he realizes that he just said the same thing. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ox glanced back at him, Joe turns, and he gets <em>packpacklovesafehereus</em>. Jessie wraps her pinkie around his, and his bond with Kelly lights up gold as the stranger gives a smile, pulls his lips back to show white teeth stark against skin, something akin to understanding or...pity? in his eyes before he says, “Yeah. It’s pretty fucked up.” He goes to say something else, but he’s cut off by the sitting wolf, Damian, shifting to human.  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The one who was talking is looking at him, an eyebrow raised and unamused. The new addition to the conversation looks impatient; he says, “You are the alpha of all wolves, yes?” Ox looks back at Joe, and the alpha moves to stand beside him. Damian lifts his chin, his shoulders rolled back. He stands taller than the other two unshifted. ‘Damian’ takes a step forward, and the witch-wolf reaches over the one surrounding him to snag his wrist. “Our pack,” he started, “are the protectors of our city. Our city, which is falling apart under <em>your</em> jurisdiction.” Robbie sees the shorter’s grip tighten. “Our father-” the wavey haired one flinched, a full roll down his body- “was killed under <em>your </em>complacency. Our sister. His-” he gestures to the shortest, who must know what’s coming, because Robbie swears he can hear teeth clink together. The shifted wolf barks. The boy in question just glares. “His mate.” Kelly stiffens against him.  “-and his father. We-” if a voice could cause lacerations, it would- “are running out of people to loose. Do you care to assist us?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Before the Bennett pack can piece together an answer, the the smallest man pivots, hair flying around his head. The wolf around him unfurrowed, and he took a step towards the speech-giver. A hand came up, curled into a fist, and a green shield reminiscent of something from Gordo curves around the outsiders. The first proceeds to poke the kid in the chest, and it becomes apparent that that the magic is soundproof when they start having it out. The other two don’t intervene, the shifted wolf’s eyes still on them.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Robbie’s pack is left in silence. The alphas turn around in sinc, and Robbie has the mind to be mildly freaked out. He knew if Rico was here, he’d comment on it. “We have to all be ok with this.” They look at each other. “If we go anywhere, we all go. We’re not splitting up again.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Robbie looks towards Elizabeth, towards Gordo. Turns to look at Kelly, who shifted, and they rest their foreheads together, lace their fingers.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“As long as we’re together, yeah?” And he doesn’t want to. Man, does Robbie really really not want to. He wants to live peacefully. He wants to wake up early with Kelly, spend his day laughing at shitty jokes, have Sunday dinners and picnics in the woods and game nights with soda stained cards. He wants to live with <em>packpackpackpackpack</em> without worrying about what’s coming next, without knowing something is coming, without knowing that they’re going somewhere <em>not here. </em></p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But that’s life. And until he can join his mother, Thomas, he’s just going to have to deal.</p>
</div><div>
  <p><br/>
Focus on the beautiful things, and do what needs to be done. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A breath puffs out of his nose, and Kelly tightens his fingers. Robbie rubs his thumbs over the side of the man’s hands. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They’ll be ok.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He squeezes a hand, let’s go, rests his palm against the tilt of Kelly’s jaw. “You ready to be kingly, young prince?” A chuckle rumbles out his chest, and he is surrounded by <em>lakewaterandsunshineagainsteyelidsandcoollemonade</em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>An unfamiliar noise, a break in the voices they know and the breaths they have memorized by heart. They’re stepping out from each other, hand still linked, fingers still tight. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The bubble is down, it’s people quiet. The large wolf is standing to the left of the shortest man, their spine coming up to his chest. Damian had shifted back to a wolf, and the witch’s hand was in his fur. The lithe one looks critical. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“So?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Come in.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. An Attempt at Treading</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Robbie Fontaine thought that it was a beautiful fucking day. </p>
<p>He woke to chilled sheets and warm skin. His arm is flung over a chest, soft t-shirt crumbled beneath flesh. His fingers rest lightly across a bicep, palm pressed against arm muscle. One of his legs is woven over and then under a leg of Kelly’s, and his toes brush against a muscled calf. </p>
<p>Their comforter is pushed down and off the mattress, leaving their flesh to prickle against the biting air from their open window. </p>
<p>Robbie liked the feeling. </p>
<p>He shifted, shoving his face into Kelly’s neck. His breath warmed his face from where it was bottled in by his mate’s skin, and a stray piece of blond hair moved with every exhale. </p>
<p>A minute. A moment. An hour. He was floating face down in a lake, and it was early morning. Everything was a light gray, streaming in around him. He wasn’t drowning. He was just drifting. </p>
<p>It was because of Kelly that he could breath, and he held onto that. </p>
<p>The body beneath him shifted, and he broke out of water. He looked up, and he was met with eyes that plunged him back under again. </p>
<p>When he was with Kelly, it was like Robbie was always where he wanted to be. He walked into a room, and Robbie was underwater. His heart rate slowed, his tapping stilled, his body leaned unconsciously towards the other.</p>
<p>The world can be an uncomfortable place. Even when nothing explicitly uncomfortable is (happening), just being thrown into it all, tossed like dice into this board of a billion other players. One that makes his pulse speed, his breath shallow, his head lighten. </p>
<p>People that you love have a way of tying you down to the board, of carving you out your own little corner. </p>
<p>Kelly pours water over it, a breaking of a dam he didn’t even know was there. All the players are swept off the board. </p>
<p>It’s just him and Robbie, and those that have tied themselves to the board for him, and lovely, lovely, emptiness. </p>
<p>Robbie lifted his head, peered at Kelly’s face. Ran a thumb under an eye, skimming against thick lashes. </p>
<p>He imagined it opening, and it struck him that there are two different types of emptiness. </p>
<p>One is the first one that probably comes to mind. The rare one, the fragile one, the one like an unrippling lake of washed out light and cool x. The one that gives your mind a (break). Because even when your not doing anything, your still on the board, and your deftly aware of that. </p>
<p>It’s the kind that breaks when you think about it, when thoughts stutter in like a needle skipping from a record. </p>
<p>The second kind is the easier kind. Robbie might call it over-stimulation. It sounds like it negates the purpose, goes against what emptiness fundamentally is. But sometimes, to get out the thoughts you don’t like, the knowledge that you’re on the board, the shake of fingers and the bouncing of a knee, you have to physically drown it out yourself. You have to pack your board so high with stuff that everything just blends together; one piece, one thought, not distinguishable from the next. </p>
<p>This is easiest with sound. </p>
<p>Sometimes, Robbie cannot stand silence. </p>
<p>The second kind can be dangerous, however. It’s precarious. You balance on that tip, like standing at the point of a blade. </p>
<p>But that is the risk of emptiness.</p>
<p>It always ends. </p>
<p>Ah, to be awake and monologuing. </p>
<p>He untangles himself from his love, his life, and slides off of the bed. Lake water runs in rockets down his skin. The pads of his feet brush against cool wood, and he snags his pajama pants from the floor and pulls them on. They’re fuzzy, cotton hugging his thighs and brushing against itself as he walks.</p>
<p>Robbie tread down the hall, past Carter and Gavin, past Ox and Joe, past Elizabeth, alone in her bed. The house is still as he takes the steps, his palm ghosting against the banister. His footsteps are quickening, and he breaks out of the house with a quiet sort of desperation, with a built up pressure in his chest that guarantees he’ll either laugh or cry. </p>
<p>Once he’s out though, it’s good. It’s better. </p>
<p>The fresh air that he lost when he exit their room greeted him. He thought it was wonderful. </p>
<p>He wondered over to the side of their porch, a plank creaking beneath his foot. He slides down in the corner, his knees pulled up. Wood is cold and worn soft beneath his toes. He folds his hands against his chest, letting his head knock against the house with a sigh before he lets them fall to the ground. His legs fall suit, folding into a rough crisscross applesauce. </p>
<p>A deep breath, and he’s good. </p>
<p>He’s fine.</p>
<p>It’s beautiful out.</p>
<p>It’s still solid dark, not yet edging on dawn. One thing Robbie loves about living outside of a city is the stars; they’re striking, this blanket of little speckles. He likes to pretend that he could reach up, tug the night sky down like a quilt and let it lay over him. </p>
<p>His eyes fall closed.</p>
<p>A minute. A moment. An hour. </p>
<p>Wood creaks beside him, and there’s a thump.</p>
<p>The sky pools at his feet.</p>
<p>It was Carter.</p>
<p>“Hello, little brother.”</p>
<p>A body which is marginally larger than him presses against his side, a thwump of sandy hair knocking against his temple. An arm sprawls across his lap, and Robbie gets an elbow to the stomach with a soft “uumph.” </p>
<p>Robbie blinks. </p>
<p>The sky is starting to lighten, black bleeding into navy like a wet watercolor stood on its side. Behind him, the house is quiet. A floorboard creaks somewhere on the second floor. A cricket chirps. The boy beside him breaths. </p>
<p>Robbie turns his head towards Carter, sees the boy chin tilted up, eyes closed.</p>
<p>It’s nice to see him relaxed. </p>
<p>They’ve all been through a lot. </p>
<p>He pulls the sky up from his feet, takes the navy and tosses it over the boy next to him. Pulls it up around his own shoulder, imagined it bunching around his neck. </p>
<p>He let’s his head loll against where Carter’s is pressed, and he looks at the tree line. It’s dark, green turned black. The blue house, it’s shutters closed, because according to Gordo it’s, “Really fucking cold.” The patch of gravel that narrows into a road, disappears into woods, the home of a love story between a young king and a kind boy. </p>
<p>His eyes fall closed.</p>
<p>A moment. A minute. An hour. </p>
<p>He wakes to the man beside him shifting, pulling his weight off of his side. Inside, a kettle is whistling. He can hear Elizabeth shuffling around, moving across the kitchen. </p>
<p>The sky is that early morning blur, a mixture of light blue and cobalt and gray. The air stings his fingers and bites his cheeks, cleans his lungs with every inhale and clouds around his face with every ex.</p>
<p>Carter levers himself to his feet, letting out a grown. He pushes his hair back with both hands, and then reaches down and grabs Robbie’s outstretched hand. He pops him to his feet and the shorter stumbles, catching himself on the larger wolf. Carter snorts. Robbie shoulder checks him (he gets a pity stumble) on their way inside, telling him “to put some fucking pants on, nobody needs to see that.” He gets a wink back, and a face full of boxer as Carter struts up the stairs. Robbie turns towards the kitchen.</p>
<p>He loves their (yes, their, and wow is that a lovely word) house in the early morning. </p>
<p>Elizabeth has the windows pushed open, and curtains flutter. A robe of worn cotton falls off of her shoulders, and he gets a small-but-not-so-small-at-all smile as she pour hot water from dented metal. </p>
<p>He settles against the counter, his elbows braced and spine curved. The wood is still cool beneath his feet. It’s soft, worn. That same wood carried out between the two houses. </p>
<p>A mug of chipped ceramic is placed gently in front of him, and he hums. It’s warm against his hands. He hears a creak above them, and it’s Carter exiting his and Kelly’s room.</p>
<p>A slender hand pats his arm, and he turns, debating whether to make his way back upstairs or settle in the living room. He knew it was going to be a long day. That was a given. Strangers were sleeping in their basement. They may be picking up as a pack and making a bit more of a day trip. They haven’t worked out what’s going to happen with the baby, but Robbie knows he’s not coming, because (we don’t go there). Not leaving behind pack is what makes Ox and Joe different from those before them, and making excuses doesn't justify anything. Everyone made excuses. </p>
<p>Robbie just doesn’t know. </p>
<p>They were hesitant about what to do about the Wayne’s. A motel room was ready, but they’d prefer to be able to keep an eye on the strangers. Desperation can make people unpredictable. Housing them in literally their own home was an uncomfortable decision to make; the last time someone was here was when Ox was a Beta magnet. </p>
<p>Robbie doesn’t know.</p>
<p>The basement door opens, and his tea jolts. A hot rivulet runs down his hand, and he puts it down on the counter, realizing that he must have been standing in the middle of the kitchen for </p>
<p>A minute. A moment. An hour. </p>
<p>A hand lands on his bicep, not a grip, just lightly resting there. Robbie turns, and there is Elizabeth, in all her elegant, wild glory. Her eyes crinkle, and there’s a beat before a small-but-not-so-small-at-all smile. They turn toward the door. She didn’t have to say anything else. </p>
<p>Timothy Drake-Wayne stepped out first, hair brushing against his shoulders. It was starting to curl around where it framed his face, and a colic flipped out from behind. Robbie noticed that underneath thick eyelashes, it looked like bruises were smudged by thumbs.</p>
<p>Damian Wayne stood behind him, a hand hooked into the cuff of the shorter’s sweatshirt. He had golden cuffs in his cartilage, and Robbie saw a splatter of glitter smeared across a cheekbone. His face was blank, against Tim’s apparent exhaustion. </p>
<p>“Coffee?” The first asks, and Robbie nods, turns towards their shitty machine. </p>
<p>He grabs some travel mugs (because he finds that mugs can be immensely personal, packpackpackpack). He looks back to the freakishly tall one, a question in his gaze, and he received the shake of a head. </p>
<p>Elizabeth floats over, a steaming mug in her hands. She pours it with ease, and Robbie twists on the lid before turning back to their guests. </p>
<p>A door opens above them, and he hears the Alphas make their way down the stairs, Joe’s steps stumbling. Robbie can imagine him running a hand across his face, his eyebrows furrowed in a pout. They turn from the bottom of the stairs, though, and both faces are smooth. </p>
<p>Joe nods at the newcomers, moves to his mother and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His steps are silent. He meets Robbie with a raised eyebrow, and the wolf sticks out his tongue. </p>
<p>Ox goes straights towards him, standing between Robbie and the strangers - his back directly to them. Joe shifts, and they all know what it is.</p>
<p>A show of trust. </p>
<p>The alpha’s eyebrows furrow, and he knows that if they weren’t in company, he’d raise a hand to his cheek. </p>
<p>Robbie shrugs. It’s nothing new.</p>
<p>Joe feels something, mystic moon magic sync, because he breaks the silence, offers the others each a donut from a half eaten box, shows them fruit and -</p>
<p>and Robbie had stopped paying attention. </p>
<p>The alpha in front of him’s eyes bled red, and (ihearyouihearyouiseeyourobbierobbiemyomegamybrothermyloveimsorryletmesoothyouletmesmoothyourmind).</p>
<p>A moment. A minute. An hour.</p>
<p>Robbie realizes that there’s a hand gripping each side of his skull, and his forehead is resting against his friend’s. His body is sagged against the counter, and an exhale escapes him, coming out of the water to find that he’s still coasting the surface. </p>
<p>He stays there, floating, for an unknown amount of time. </p>
<p>Finally he pulls away, blinks, and- </p>
<p>and he’s unable to tread. </p>
<p>Robbie shakes off the lake water, straightens. Gives his alpha a mix of a thing, a self deprecating, what can you do, I’m not going to let myself think about it, this is just the way my life is right now type of smile. </p>
<p>Ox blinks. He looks... sad. And determined?</p>
<p>A knuckle knocks his temple, and he knows that he picked that up from Gordo, just like Gavin did. He has the mind to snort to himself, because wouldn’t the man be happy about that, and Ox gives him a knowing smile.</p>
<p>Freaky alpha magic. </p>
<p>Those that have previously occupied the room have thus vacated, and Robbie hears the crackle of their boxy tv from the living room. Ox turns, drops a hand, looks to where wood turns to shaggy carpet from the seventies. He glanced back at Robbie, rubs a thumb by his ear, and says, “Why don’t you go wake Mark and Gordo? We’ll all meet here.” And Robbie gives him a greatful smile.</p>
<p>He slides on a pair of Kelly’s slides that were sitting by the door, slips out and walks across gravel with a trail of fwips following behind him. </p>
<p>The house in front of him is still silent.</p>
<p>It is his job to change that. </p>
<p>He likes this job.</p>
<p>A hand grips a brass knob, and Robbie tries it. </p>
<p>Nada.</p>
<p>He circles the house, lightly pulling up at window panes. </p>
<p>The one to their living room is unlocked.</p>
<p>He swings a leg around, uses his shin and the heels of his hands to boost him self up and over. Robbie falls onto the couch, holding his breath as his body bounces against thick foam. A flip flop hits the floor. His glasses skew on his face.</p>
<p>Chest still, Robbie Fontaine listens. An unraveling blanket lilts onto his face.</p>
<p>Two heartbeats. Two sleeping people. </p>
<p>Robbie levers himself up and off the couch, leaving the other sandal behind him as he pads towards the kitchen. The tile beneath his feet is warm. Gordo has the heat cranking, and as he passes a vent heat licks at his ankle. </p>
<p>Robbie opens their fridge, humming as he looks through cold pizza, hot sauce, and sliced melon. He grabs a bag of half full bacon, slides it onto the counter as he grabs a pan (without them clattering, not without effort on his part) and flicks on the burner. </p>
<p>Ten minutes later, Gordo is stumbling into the kitchen, cursing not under his breath. </p>
<p>“Knew it was you,” he grumbled, running a hand over an eye. He squinted. “Could smell the bacon screaming for help.” </p>
<p>Robbie grinned; he could feel it pull at his cheeks. </p>
<p>A glazed yellow plate was held in front of him, and Robbie shook it. The black strips shifted around. </p>
<p>Gordo eyed him, and then the bacon. </p>
<p>“What’did I tell you about coming into my house,” he muttered. The witch took the bacon. The wolf’s smile widened. </p>
<p>“That you’re full of shit,” he sung, and trotted back to the couch, flopping down in his back.</p>
<p>He rolled his head, grinned lazily at the man in the doorway. </p>
<p>A beat, and Robbie raised an eyebrow, his lip twitching.</p>
<p>The man took another bite of bacon. </p>
<p>“You’re lucky I don’t kick your ass out,” but as Robbie said: Gordo Livingstone is full of shit.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, I wasn’t in a good place when I wrote this.<br/>Yes, when I’m in a good place, I’m no longer in a good place after I read this.<br/>Yes, I still reread this anyway. </p>
<p>(Btw, not entirely sure what this qualifies as? Anxiety? General mental unrest? Going through fazes where I’m loosing my fucking mind? Rip)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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